


Not Mere Words from His Lover's Mouth

by ArtsyAfrodite



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-29
Updated: 2013-07-29
Packaged: 2017-12-21 18:07:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/903268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtsyAfrodite/pseuds/ArtsyAfrodite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ian and Mickey reunite after Ian is kicked out of the Army, and returns to the Southside.  Ian makes a pleasant discovery about Mickey.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Mere Words from His Lover's Mouth

2:15am.

It was like nothing he had ever heard, yet like everything he had ever known - and wanted. Intonation. Melodic prosody. The rise and fall. The soft, sweet lyric intertwined in an alluring vibrato. The beauty was maddening. The feeling, dangerous. This could be fatal, only familiarity acting as the mediator between sudden mania and vulnerability. As Ian lay perfectly still, mixed in a mess of sheets, and pale skin, and black hair, he shallowed his breathing ensuring his old flame, rekindled, was not made aware of his wakefulness. He closed his eyes, ears at attention, the orange moon casting an appropriate blush onto his freckled face, smiling now. He could make out what he was hearing, but these were not mere words from his lover’s mouth.

****************************

8:05pm (6 hours earlier).

Cement walls with stories to tell surrounded him. It was like a smoke signal, what drew him here after all this time. Efforts to forget all that happened here must have been for naught. Ian didn’t know why his feet had led him back to the place where pain was almost a given. “He hurt me here," he whispered to himself.

It had already been 8 months since Ian had returned to the Southside of Chicago, still as unforgiving as the day he left. Until now, he had managed to avoid his old haunts. His stint in the army didn’t last long - guess the military didn’t like identity fraud. He was lucky he wasn’t in jail right now, but so much for any hopes he had for a future in the armed services. This, however, was the last thing on Ian’s mind. The big question was, why? Why had he come back to the place where hurt was an intention?

_"You love me and you’re gay…"_

_"You feel better now? Feel like a man?"_ A kick to the mouth.

It was all coming back to him, rushing in like a flood, and for a moment his lungs constricted and breath abandoned him. He couldn’t breathe. “Fuck!" he yelled out. Ian lined his back up against one of the cement walls and slid down to the cold, stone floor. He pulled his knees into his chest and dropped his head. Minutes passed, then an hour. He just sat there glued by his dead-eye. The silence was deafening. The memories like broken pieces of glass under his skin.

Then, in the midst of an unwanted reminiscence, the sound of slow footsteps cut through the silence like a knife. Ian didn’t bother to move. He wasn’t afraid, nor did he care. It was probably some homeless person or something. But then a voice, his voice, let out a staggered, “Hey," and Ian nearly choked. He slowly raised his head and looked over towards the ghostly silhouette. Even the darkness could not conceal those eyes, vigorously blue and sparkling in the passing moonlight. Ian stood to his feet. He didn’t bother asking questions. His surprise guess didn’t either. Anything in this moment would only be empty rhetoric.

9:15pm.

The reunion was initially quiet. No words were exchanged, only modest glances and momentary contacting of the eyes - a joining together and meeting of blue water to green land. A cultivation had begun.

Neither boy was aware.

So they remained silent for minutes that seemed like hours, as if afraid to waste another word, letting not one slip past nervous lips and out into the ether, only to be lost forever. Not again. Not this time. No sorries were said. There were no long, explanatory sentences spoken. The moment rendered these unnecessary. They were a given anyway. So in the quiet anticipation, Ian made the first move, pressing his forehead into Mickey’s while simultaneously placing the palms of his shaky hands onto Mickey’s pallid cheeks. Warm, wet drops began to drip down Ian’s hands, falling from eyes he didn’t think were capable of such. Ian quickly followed suit, his own tears making their way to the tip of his chin, eventually landing on Mickey’s shirt.

They found each other’s lips, pressing them together and the kiss happened. Tongues gently caressing. Desperate breaths exchanged between mouths. Knees growing weak. Then it happened. A heavy sigh followed by a stuttered, “I - I love you," and Ian felt himself collapsing from the sound, explosions taking place beneath his chest. Mickey felt what was happening, and almost instinctively the smaller boy wrapped his arms around his former lover’s lower back, gripping him tightly, holding his weight, because he loved him. Mickey never kissed Ian so passionately.

11:02pm.

The two boys finally left for the Milkovich house. Mickey twined his fingers with Ian’s as they walked, no longer ashamed or afraid. Terry was long gone now, in prison for life, releasing Mickey’s heart from it’s very own. They stood outside the front door. “I’m not afraid anymore," Mickey spoke softly into Ian’s neck. Ian shuddered. A muttered, almost child-like, “I love you too," escaped Ian’s yearning lips. It took him almost 2 hours to say it back. But Mickey already knew.

The two boys made it inside. Doors were shut behind them. Clothes spun and love was made for the very first time.

1:30am.

Sleep came, but only to Ian. Mickey watched him sleep, the red of his hair more beautiful than ever. He admired every angle of the younger boy’s naked body, partly covered by sheets, partly by afterglow, partly by his own frame. Admiration suddenly turned into fear as realization set in. Mickey was in love. Dangerously in love. “Fuck," he scoffed to himself. He unraveled himself from Ian, carefully not to wake him. He made his way to the bathroom and turned on the sink, letting the water run. He splashed his flushed face with cold water. When this wasn’t enough, he decided to step in the shower, a newfound urge to do something he had suppressed for years, joining him.

Ian was awakened by the sound of running water. Mickey was in the shower. He thought about joining him, but the thought was quickly interrupted by what he heard next -

_"There’s something about the look in your eyes,_  
 _Something I noticed when the light was just right._  
 _It reminded twice that I was alive,_  
 _And it reminded me that you’re so worth the fight._  
 _Ooh, yeah…"_

Ian’s heart skipped a beat. If hell wasn’t frozen over right now - Mickey was singing? And dammit if the sound wasn’t the most captivating thing Ian had ever heard. A sound siren? The voice almost sounded as if it didn’t belong to Mickey. It was amazing, the tone mesmerizing. The time listening was short, but Ian was already addicted. And the song? Ian recognized it. It was one of his favorites - “Echo" by Incubus. He became light-headed. He didn’t know what to do with himself, so he slowly began to sit up, but stopped when he heard the water stop. He assumed his previous position, and closed his eyes. Mickey couldn’t know he heard him, not yet.

2:11am.

Wrapped in a towel, Mickey made his way back to the bed. Ian was still lying there, so peaceful, like an angel. He stood and watched him for a moment, the fear he felt slowly fading with each rise and fall of Ian’s breathing. He removed his towel, the moonlight causing his pale body to almost glow. He didn’t bother putting anything on, and slid under the sheets, positioning himself as close to Ian as possible. He slid his right arm under Ian’s, finding his hand. He twined his fingers with his, gently bringing them into the younger boy’s chest. Mickey held him so close. After a moment passed, Mickey slowly lifted his head off of his pillow and peered over Ian, his blue eyes taking in his gorgeous freckled face. Certain that he was still in deep sleep, Mickey laid his head back down and parted his lips. He let out a secret serenade for Ian, softly singing,

_"My biggest fear will be the rescue of me,_  
 _strange how it turns out that way, yeah…"_

Ian laid there, awake, yet so still, submerged in something magical, something exciting - a melodic ecstasy. Mickey was singing, and although unaware, he was singing to him. It was like nothing Ian had ever heard, yet like everything he had ever known. His voice was beautiful. He was beautiful. Ian closed his eyes tighter and listened. He held onto every note, slowly losing himself in the sound. He became the bass to Mickey’s treble, and in that moment they became one in a way other than physical.

Ian could make out what he was hearing, but these were not mere words from his lover’s mouth.


End file.
